


boys on film

by goldfynches



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Mac McDonald, Catholic Guilt, Closeted Mac McDonald, Dennis Reynolds is a Bastard Man, Drunk Sex, Exhibitionism, Hair-pulling, Internalized Homophobia, It's Mac, M/M, Manipulative Dennis Reynolds, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Pining Mac McDonald, Praise Kink, Pre-Season/Series 07, Sex Tapes, Top Dennis Reynolds, Voyeurism, all the dude has is internalised homophobia, closeted mac at that, dennis calling mac baby boy was the cultural reset we all needed, obviously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:54:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24336193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldfynches/pseuds/goldfynches
Summary: "smile for the camera, baby."
Relationships: Mac McDonald/Dennis Reynolds
Comments: 8
Kudos: 158





	boys on film

**Author's Note:**

> frankly uncreative title from girls on film by duran duran.
> 
> we be fixating on it's always sunny, so of course there's gonna be fic. there should be more coming soon if i can get my head out of my ass and actually finish the ones i've already started.
> 
> dennis being a bastard man is my favourite thing. so is mac's almost disturbing devotion to him. so. enjoy.

Mac isn’t snooping. Mac doesn’t snoop. That’s more Dennis’ gig; invading his friends’ privacy for shits and giggles, getting off on it somehow. No, Mac tells himself as he eases open the drawer of Dennis’ tapes, it’s just his turn to do the laundry and he’s doing one last sweep of the apartment, and, wouldn’t you look at that. Turns out there’s nothing but neatly arranged VHS tapes in this drawer, not clothes “like he’d thought”. It’s far too much justification - more justification than an innocent person would need - but hell, it helps keep that bitter taste of guilt out of his mouth. Because he’s not really innocent here, he’s just good at convincing himself.

It’s not the first time he’s glanced into this drawer, head tilted as he dragged a finger across the meticulously ordered labels, but it doesn’t feel any less dirty, or creepy. He’d argue that Dennis was the creepy one for filming his bangs in the first place, and keeping the weird rating system, but he was also guilty of  _ something _ . Mac’s gaze skips over the section devoted to the frankly alarming number of waitresses, and eventually lands on- huh.

_ Mac - ☆☆☆☆ _

There’s a moment before it really sets in, where Mac simply looks blankly at the label on the tape, blinking. And then he’s jerking his hand away from the drawer like it might bite him, face screwed up.

“What the fuck?” 

Dennis would’ve appeared at the screech if he was in. As it stands, Dennis is at Paddy’s, and Mac is alone in the apartment with nobody to pose his questions to.

“What the  _ fuck _ ?”

It feels a little like all the air has been sucked out of the bedroom. Nothing about this is adding up. Banging Dennis isn’t the kind of thing he’d forget, he was sure about that, but the more he tries to rack his brain for memories, the more frustrated he gets that he’s coming up empty. Sure, there are vague memories of dreams he’s tried desperately to bury, but that’s not the same. That’s not the kind of thing that ends up on a tape in Dennis’ collection and gets a four star rating.

The hand that reaches for the tape is uncharacteristically timid, but Mac  _ still  _ feels like the thing might bite him, and that feeling isn’t outweighed by the curiosity that also makes his stomach turn a little. It would be so much easier to close the drawer, and leave the room, and pretend he didn’t see anything. Push it right to the depths of his mind with the other thoughts he has about Dennis. But he can’t bring himself to leave it alone now he knows it’s there.

To his surprise, his hand remains unscathed as he picks up the tape - ignoring that weird feeling of pride at seeing the tapes beside his only have three star ratings. It looks completely unassuming, not like something that’ll probably ruin the way he looks at Dennis - and himself - forever. Fuck. Whatever. It’s too late now, it’s already in his hands.

There’s the same teenage guilty feeling of flicking through a dirty magazine or sneaking down at night to try and catch the porno channels as Mac crouches down by the VCR. He can’t stop glancing over at the front door, which he’s already locked, expecting to hear Dennis’ knock because he had to come home early for  _ something _ . Part of him actually wants Dennis to appear, so he doesn’t have to face whatever is on the tape and can find a time to sneak it back where it belongs. He’ll pretend to have no idea and everything will go back to the way it was. He’s good at convincing himself when he wants to.

Mac feels stupid, but he holds his breath as he slides the tape in. Maybe there’ll be a horrible mechanical crunch and the tape’ll be ruined. Maybe there’ll be a natural disaster. Tsunamis don’t usually hit Philadelphia, but maybe there’ll be an exception this time.

Despite his eagerness for something to keep him from seeing the tape, there’s a quiet part of him that wants it. The same part of him that hopes just once Dennis will catch him when he looks just a second too long, after the others have glanced away. The same part of him that lies awake when Dennis brings some chick home, staring at the ceiling, hoping to hear him through the walls. The same part of him that propelled him into the living room, tape in hand.

Mac goes to perch on the couch, all tucked into himself, when the tape starts up. It’s just a dim grey screen at first, like the lens of Dennis’ camera was pointed at the carpet, and then-

“ _ Dennis _ .” High and whiny and embarrassing.

At least, Mac would say embarrassment is what’s making him squirm already. He’s never heard himself sound like that, so achingly needy.

“You can wait a minute for me, can’t you, baby boy?” Even over the tape, Dennis sounds smug.

The sharp inhale Mac takes mimics the quiet huff that Tape-Mac makes. That quiet part of him is seething with jealousy, and mourning the fact that he doesn’t remember this at all.

When the lens is finally pointed at something other than the carpet, Mac realises why.

Tape-Dennis looks  _ hammered. _ His face is flushed, and his hair looks like it had hands running through it for hours. The top few buttons on his shirt have been popped open, and his grin is lopsided. As he clumsily puts the camera in place, Mac catches sight of his doppelganger and, yeah, Tape-Mac is gone too, hair falling in his face, panting already.

It’s just shy of being uncomfortably weird, watching some version of himself that he barely recognises position himself on Dennis’ bed, trying to duck away shyly from the gaze of the camera. Or, at least Mac lets that part of himself convince him it isn’t weird and creepy and voyeuristic.

Tape-Dennis is still fiddling with shit behind the camera, and Tape-Mac watches him intently, and - okay, fine, maybe he does do that puppy dog face, whatever. 

“Something wrong?” Tape-Dennis sounds sweet, dripping honey, the way he does before he rips someone a new one. 

And Tape-Mac falls for it, burying his face in the pillow he’s wrapped his arms around. Real Mac hates that he knows he’d fall for it too.

“You’re taking too long.” The other Mac mumbles into the pillow.

Mac feels his heart leap up into his throat as Tape-Dennis strolls into view, chuckling. He’s taking off his shirt, casual as anything. It’s not like Mac has never seen this shit before, not with Dennis’ affinity for popping off his shirt whenever there’s the barest hint that the situation calls for it - and often without that - but knowing it was, at least then,  _ for him _ makes his head spin. He has to look away for a second, just to catch his breath.

“ _ Look at me _ .” It would’ve made sense for the recording to dull the authority in Dennis’ voice, at least a little, but Mac finds himself looking back at the TV embarrassingly fast, so fast it makes his face burn.

The Mac on video is just as quick to look up, eyes wide, mouth falling open. Dennis has his back to the camera, but Mac is sure he must be grinning.

“Isn’t this what you want? Permission to look all you want?” Dennis’ voice has gone soft, helped along by the way he’s slurring his words slightly.

Mac is dumbstruck, and so is Tape-Mac. Dennis stalks forward, each step surprisingly measured for how drunk he looks.

“You think I don’t notice how much you look at me? It’s like you’re not even  _ trying  _ to be subtle. Staring at me like a lost puppy, hoping I’ll- what? What is it you’re hoping for?”

Mac feels his mouth go dry, and it’s just that moment that makes him glad he can’t see Dennis’ face. He presses his thighs together, fingers digging into the couch. There’s so much he’s hoping for, none of it he could ever admit out loud.

Tape-Mac seems just as tongue-tied, just looking up at Tape-Dennis, so full of adoration it makes Real-Mac’s chest ache.

Dennis chuckles and reaches out to cup the other Mac’s chin, and the touch looks more gentle than Mac would give Dennis credit for. And it makes his breath catch in his throat, but that’s not important.

“Dennis, please.”

Mac can imagine the look on Dennis’ face, so fucking satisfied with himself that it’d sting any other time, if it wasn’t a situation where all he wanted was to give Dennis what he wanted. God, he  _ wishes  _ he remembered this. 

There’s a moment where he imagines Tape-Dennis is simply basking in the feeling before he nods.

“Okay, baby. I’ll give you what you need.” He says it so softly that it’s almost inaudible over the video.

That’s what breaks Mac’s resolve. He’s already hard in his jeans - has been practically since he set the tape to play - but the potent mix of shame and embarrassment had kept his hands kneading frantically into the couch instead. Letting out a shuddering breath, he pops the button on his jeans and shoves them and his boxers down, just as Dennis starts to step out of his. 

Slowly, much slower than he wants to but  _ goddammit he’s getting to the end of the tape _ , he closes a fist around his dick and starts to stroke.

“Fuck.” He breathes, tipping his head back against the couch cushion.

The moment he spends staring at the ceiling is brief. Wrestling with all those thoughts, like the feeling that he’s somehow invading someone’s privacy, or the feeling that he did something so fucking  _ horriblebadwrong _ , or the feeling that he’ll never be close to Dennis in a way that matters, not sober anyway, is in no way preferable to watching Tape-Dennis circle the bed and kneel behind Tape-Mac. 

“Are you nervous?” 

Tape-Dennis trails a hand down Tape-Mac’s back, and Mac is sure he can feel it with the shiver that runs down his spine. Tape-Mac nods, then considers, then shakes his head.

“You’ll take care of me.” He slurs, so trusting and earnest that it makes Dennis pause. Then a wide grin spreads across his face - and he must dig his nails in because Tape-Mac whines his complaint.

“That’s right, baby,” Dennis murmurs, leaning down to press a single kiss to the nape of Mac’s neck, “I’ll take care of you.”

_ Fuck _ , what wouldn’t Mac give to hear Real-Dennis say that. He shoots a glance towards the door, and for a moment - a very short lived moment because the embarrassment kicks in pretty damn fast - he imagines Dennis walking in and finding him there, a smirk on his face as he takes in the pathetic scene playing out. He’d scramble to try and fix things but maybe Dennis would offer to take care of him again. Maybe.

“Dennis?”

Tape-Mac lifts his head, trying to look back at Tape-Dennis.

“What?”

“Kiss me?”

Tape-Dennis smiles, leaning forward until there’s barely an inch between them. He licks his lips, slow and deliberate. When Tape-Mac tries to close the distance, he presses a finger against his lips.

“I need you to do something first. You think you can earn it? Hm?” 

“You fucking  _ asshole _ .” Mac mutters, but he can’t help but pick up the pace of his hand.

Tape-Mac is so quick to nod, and Mac knows he’d do the exact same. Tape-Dennis’ smile widens and he pulls back, leaving Tape-Mac to press his face back into the pillow. There’s something in that smile that Mac feels should put him off, like if he looked closer, he’d see Dennis’ last prey still caught in his teeth. It doesn’t put him off. 

The sheets rustle as Dennis looks for something, and eventually picks up a little bottle. 

“Are you gonna be good for me, baby boy?”

Mac has to bite his tongue to keep himself from answering. That’s for Tape-Mac to answer, and he does, nodding. Tape-Dennis cards a hand through Mac’s hair, sweet as anything, before he takes a handful and  _ pulls _ .

Both Macs moan in sync. Real Mac bites down on his fist, squeezing the hand settled around the base of his cock.

“I don’t think I heard you,” Dennis speaks slowly, each word deliberate, “ _ Are you going to be good _ ?”

“Yes,” Tape-Mac gasps, trying his best to nod with Dennis’ hand fisted in his hair, “I’ll be good.”

Dennis slowly eases his grip, eventually starting to pet gently through his hair.

“There we go. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Mac knows better than to just shake his head this time. “No.”

“Good boy.”

That had to be on purpose. There was no way Dennis could just say that shit and not know that it’d make Mac whine, even sober, how many weeks later. He did it on purpose, and Mac hates just how good it gets him. 

There’s a moan from the TV speakers and Mac blinks, frowning as he tries to figure it out. Tape-Dennis has sat back on his heels between Tape-Mac’s legs, one hand planted between his shoulder blades, the other-

“You’re fucking tight, shit.” Tape-Dennis huffs.

Mac doesn’t want to show half the restraint he’s showing now, forcing his hand to keep that same steady pace, even as his hips make desperate, jerky little thrusts up into his fist. It’s so fucking  _ perfect  _ and it’s so fucking  _ unfair _ .

“You had a lot to drink tonight, huh?” Tape-Dennis is back to talking like honey while he takes Tape-Mac apart with his fingers, “First you couldn’t keep your eyes off me. Then you couldn’t keep your hands off me. It was kinda cute, you know.”

Tape-Mac whines, pushing his hips up against Dennis.

“Did you think I wouldn’t notice?” Dennis dips his head forward, murmuring straight into Mac’s ear, almost too quiet for the camera to pick up, “You’ve been throwing yourself at me since forever. So desperate for me, of course I fucking noticed.”

Mac is barely breathing, trying not to drown out Dennis’ soft words, jerking it so fucking slow that he thinks he might die. 

“So fucking cute.” Dennis clears his throat and puts on a little whiny voice, “ _ Dennis, we should go. We should go home, Dennis. I want it to just be us. _ ”

Tape-Mac groans, gripping the pillow so hard his knuckles go white. 

“Now it’s just us, baby boy. Are you happy with how it’s turning out?”

“ _ Yes _ .” 

Dennis catches Mac’s earlobe between his teeth, getting a soft whine out of him. 

Finally, Tape-Dennis’ other hand comes into view. He wraps it around his dick, giving it a couple of strokes. Tape-Mac makes a pathetic sound at the loss, shifting his hips again. Dennis chuckles, shaking his head. 

Mac almost misses what he starts to say, focusing entirely on his dick for a second. Just as perfect as the rest of him, everything he needs.

“What? Is it mean to keep you waiting?” 

_ Yes _ , Mac wants to say.  _ Yes, it’s fucking mean and you know it. I shouldn’t love it when you’re an asshole, but I do, and you know that too. So please keep being mean, but if you don’t fuck me - him - soon I think I’ll explode. _

The Mac on screen doesn’t say anything either.

“Don’t worry, baby,” Tape-Dennis furrows his brow, speaking between gritted teeth, “I’ll give you what you need.”

Mac is trembling, trying to hold himself together when all he wants is to let Dennis take him apart.

As Dennis lines himself up, he glances up and shoots a grin towards the camera. A shiver runs through Mac, and he tries to swallow a whimper. 

“Fucking  _ please _ , Dennis.” Mac whispers.

Almost as if Tape-Dennis had heard him, he presses forward, each inch of his cock disappearing into Tape-Mac, making him cry out. Real-Mac bites down so hard on his lip he’s sure he can taste blood, hoping to muffle the moan he lets out. Dennis groans, dropping his head forward, hands going to grip Mac’s hips.

“Perfect. Just perfect.” Dennis murmurs, “Just like you were made to take my dick.”

The noise Tape-Mac makes is something like agreement in the back of his throat.

When Dennis starts to move, Mac takes it as permission to stop holding back. He fucks up into his fist, mimicking Dennis’ pace, mouth open on a moan.

There’s no build up with Dennis. It’s just as absent as the foreplay. He fucks into the other version of Mac fucking  _ ruthlessly _ , snapping his hips forward in a perfect, measured pace. Mac’s pretty surprised he’s managed to keep it together so well when he seems so fucked up.

“So good for me.” Tape-Dennis pants.

Mac finds himself nodding, and it’s all too fucking good for him to be embarrassed this time.

Tape-Dennis takes Tape-Mac by the hair again, tugging him up. He arches into it, moaning, his back pressed against Dennis’ chest. He already looks fucked out - eyes unfocused, mouth slack, flush travelling down his chest, just as hard as the other Mac watching him. Dennis tucks his chin in the crook of his neck, watching the camera, grinning.

Mac digs his nails of his free hand into his thigh, like maybe it’ll stave off just how desperate he is.

“Smile for the camera, baby.” 

Tape-Mac manages a clumsy smile, his gaze missing the camera, but the intention to be good and listen is there all the same. Dennis cups his jaw, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his neck. 

“Dennis, please.” Tape-Mac whines, tilting his head, hoping for more.

“Please, what?” Dennis sounds like he’s losing his composure, breathless.

Mac doesn’t have any composure to speak of, but if he had any, hearing Dennis start to splinter apart would’ve broken it. He’s so fucking close that it hurts.

“Touch me. Kiss me. Fucking- fuck, anything.  _ Please _ .” 

“You think-” Dennis pauses on a groan, “You think you earned that kiss?”

A worried little furrow forms between Mac’s brows. “I don’t… I don’t know.”

Dennis snorts and presses Mac back down into the mattress.

“Guess that’s a no.”

“ _ Bastard _ .” Real-Mac hisses, the pace of his hand frantic.

Tape-Mac whines loudly, a wordless complaint, because saying anything to piss Dennis off means he’ll stop, and he’ll die if Dennis stops.

Tape-Dennis isn’t showing any signs of stopping by the relentless rhythm of his hips, and neither is Mac.

“How’s it feel, baby boy?” 

“So fucking good.” Mac whispers.

Tape-Mac isn’t as coherent.

Dennis chuckles, “That good, huh?”

Mac takes a shuddering breath, screwing his eyes shut. He can still hear the sound of skin on skin, Dennis’ breathing, that version of him whining into the pillow. 

“Nobody’s gonna fuck you like this,” Dennis’ voice is strained, “Nobody. I’m the best you’re ever gonna have. Nobody fucks like the Golden God.”

Dennis groans loud, the slap of skin on skin pausing, and Mac’s eyes fly open. He’s cumming before he even realises it, gaze fixed on Dennis’ face, watching his eyelids flutter, teeth digging into his bottom lip, head tipped back. So beautiful it’d hurt if he wasn’t otherwise occupied.

“Oh, god. Fuck.” Mac gasps, his chest heaving.

The shame is quick to creep in, settling in his chest. Dennis hasn’t even pulled out yet, and he’s wrinkling his nose at the mess over his hands. It’s cold and sharp and it ruins whatever moment he was letting himself enjoy.

“Look at that,” Tape-Dennis says, surprisingly soft, “Look at what you did. Good boy.”

That’s a little hit to the shame in him, and Mac takes it gladly. 

Whatever. He needs a goddamn Kleenex.

“Dennis?” Tape-Mac still sounds just as needy.

“Yeah, baby?”

“I wanna cum too. Please?”

Dennis smiles, “We’ll see.”

“ _ Bastard _ .”

Sometimes, when Mac is out, Dennis likes to dip into the archives. It’s just a casual perusal, completely normal. He filmed them for a reason, it’d be no good if the tapes just sat in the drawer collecting dust.

Humming to himself, Dennis slides the drawer open.

A couple of old favourites stand out - Samantha W., Waitress (Bar and grill), Waitress (Steakhouse). But those won’t do this time. No, he’s looking for-

Huh.

Dennis grins, tapping a fingertip against Mac’s tape. That wasn’t where he put it last time.

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments are absolutely golden. cheers, lads.


End file.
